


Tucking You In

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 20:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16751431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Hiccup takes Astrid home after a long flight.





	Tucking You In

**Tucking You In**

**-**

Knocking on the Hoffersons’ door wasn’t exactly feasible, so Hiccup found himself scraping his prosthesis against the painted wood instead. Flecks of color jumped and fluttered to the threshold. It wasn’t particularly great for his balance, and he wasn’t sure anyone would hear, but his hands were otherwise occupied. The quiet sounds of night were settling over the village. Only a few homes still hosted lit windows.

Luckily, someone  _did_  hear. The door creaked open, and the matriarch of the Hofferson household blinked at him with wide eyes before softening. Her mouth pursed against a smile. 

“I see yeh made it back in one piece,” she chuckled, keeping her voice quiet as she opened the door wide. “Did’na expect ta see yeh until morning.”

“She wasn’t feeling great. Decided to go ahead of the others and get her home." Hiccup shifted the sleeping girl in his arms, his muscles burning with exertion. Astrid’s cheek was flushed and warm where it pressed into his shoulder. “She’s, uh— she’s not exactly light, is she?”

With a laugh, her mother shook her head. “Always been that way, that girl. Take her on up— I’ll come behind yeh and get her undressed.”

She patted his back fondly as Hiccup obeyed with a nod, squeezing inside. The fire in the hearth crackled warm and welcoming as he passed by its heat. It was a familiar path, across the sitting room and up the stairs. A route he’d taken a thousand times over the years. 

Fortunately her door wasn’t shut. He was able to nudge it open and make his way through the dark of her room with ease. Where his floor was often littered with stray sketches, half-built inventions, and extra belts for his flight suit, Astrid kept her space neat and orderly at all times. Everything, that was, except for her enormous target board, which was crammed with various throwing knives and other sharp projectiles. Easily navigating the small space by the moonlight that bathed her room in a silvery glow, Hiccup made his way to her bed and hoped the thump of his prosthesis on the floorboards wouldn’t wake her. 

"Okay, Sleeping Beauty,” he whispered, bending to deposit her weight on the mattress. “Here we go.” He gently untangled her fingers from the laces of his collar and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. Then, careful not to move to quickly, he rested her hand on the pillow next to her and straightened.

He stalled, his knee still pressed into the edge of the bed. His palm rubbed absently at his ribs, where the studs of her shoulder guard had likely left sharp indents. 

Astrid’s mouth was relaxed in a little pout, and the sounds of her mother shuffling around downstairs couldn’t quite drown out her sighed breaths. Her lashes were long and thick and fanned against her pale lids. Her kransen had been pushed askew during the journey from Toothless’ back to her room. A faint pink line revealed where the headband had been fixed.

Hiccup knelt so that he could inspect her at eye level. It was a stupid, guilty pleasure, but even as a kid he’d never been able to keep his eyes off of her. Something about the planes of her face were so aesthetically pleasing— the full cheekbones, the slope of her pert nose. They were especially enjoyable to study in the moonlight. The glow made the freckles hiding in her complexion stand out. 

He felt the corner of his mouth turn upwards. Gods, he was such a sentimental freak. Watching her while she slept. She’d totally punch him if she was awake. Reaching for her braid, he ran his index finger along the soft tail of her plait. 

“Love you,” he murmured, then pushed to his feet. His hand tested the too-warm temperature of her forehead one last time before he pressed a kiss there and tore himself away. Leaving her bedside, he tried to tiptoe as best as a one-legged man could towards the stairs.

When he reached the door, he heard her stir. “Hiccup?”

Pausing, he looked over his shoulder. She hadn’t shifted, and her eyes were still closed. “Yes, milady?”

“I love you too.” Her voice was sweet and thick with sleep. “But if you call me heavy again I’ll hurt you.”


End file.
